


Totally Married Her

by AmaranteReikaChan



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Spoilers for The Time of the Doctor, he can't fly his TARDIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmaranteReikaChan/pseuds/AmaranteReikaChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I don’t think my ego can take this…”</p><p>“Hello?” her dulcet greeting drifted through the speaker into his ear.</p><p>He exhaled slowly, taking a moment to absorb the familiar and comforting timbre of her voice. For centuries he had not heard it outside of his memories and they certainly hadn’t done her justice. Until that very moment he didn’t realise how much he yearned to hear her speak. “Hi, River—hmm, fancy that, name sounds different.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Totally Married Her

**Author's Note:**

> This was me trying to cope with Matt leaving. It didn’t work.  
> First it turned into angst (which I cut out – it was too much emotions. It’ll become it’s own depressing thing later). Then somehow brazen fluff injected itself.  
> I don’t even know.  
> But here, have it.
> 
> (I do not own any of the characters.)

“No, seriously Clara…” the Doctor looked around the room quickly, trying to keep his footing as the TARDIS jerked uncontrollably, “can you fly this thing?”

“How can you _forget_ how to fly your own TARDIS?” Clara cried, clinging onto the railing with all she had.

“The same way I could play the recorder in my second regeneration but not in my third. Different body, different skills. Flying the TARDIS is a skill. Unfortunately, a skill that can be forgotten.”

“Well your skill of incessant talking certainly hasn’t changed,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Manual!” he exclaimed proudly, running down the stairs to open the storage hatch and search for the book that would save his skin, “There has to be a manual somewhere. Where is it?”

The TARDIS screeched causing the Doctor’s head to rise suddenly, “It’s what? Surely I didn’t—of course! I remember. The supernova. Twice. Stupid, stupid Doctor. I’ve got to stop throwing them into exploding stars.”

Repeatedly hitting his forehead with his fist, he sprinted back up to the controls where he tried every lever, button and switch in sight for a positive response before breaking into a frustrated wail when nothing happened.  “Can’t you fly yourself? You’ve done it before!”

“You have to set her flight instructions to automatic,” Clara said as she too was desperately trying to find a control that might calm the turbulence.

“How do I do that?” He yanked the monitor across to his eyelevel, slapping it on the side when no useful data came up. “Can’t you take some initiative? We clearly don’t know what we’re doing.”

The TARDIS lurched sending Clara sprawling to the ground. “Doctor!”

Resigning himself to what appeared to be his only option, the Doctor closed his eyes and let out a self-pitying sigh, reaching out a hand to cradle the telephone resting on the control panel.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I don’t think my ego can take this…”

“Have you become more melodramatic this time round?” Clara asked, struggling to stand up amidst the TARDIS’s instability.

“You want melodramatic? Spend more time with sandshoes.” With one last wallowing sigh the Doctor lifted the phone to his ear, speaking to the TARDIS. “You know what to do.” Wry chuckles escaped his lips when he heard the dialling tones. “Of course, this you manage all by yourself.”

His hearts skipped a beat when he heard the unmistakable click of the call being answered, he held his breath as he waited.

“Hello?” her dulcet greeting drifted through the speaker into his ear.

He exhaled slowly, taking a moment to absorb the familiar and comforting timbre of her voice. For centuries he had not heard it outside of his memories and they certainly hadn’t done her justice. Until that very moment he didn’t realise how much he yearned to hear her speak. “Hi, River—hmm, fancy that, name sounds different.”

“Ahh…” from the confusion in her tone the Doctor realised she didn’t recognise his voice, “can I help you?”

“Yes… I’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“Doctor!” Clara shrieked when the TARDIS once again juddered uncontrollably.

“ _Doctor_?” River’s tone was high-pitched, “You’re Scottish?”

“I’m Scottish?” His jaw dropped and he looked to Clara for clarification.

“Yes!” Clara gestured in exasperation.

“Damn Scottish Ponds, rubbing off on me.”

“You said you’ve got a problem,” River prodded.  

“You must understand this is rather embarrassing,” his voice dropped to a low whisper, hoping she couldn’t hear the mortification in his tone. “I can’t fly the TARDIS.”

“What?” The Doctor swore he heard River stifle a laugh.

“I just regenerated.”

“You forgot how to fly—” River’s highly amused voice cut off when the TARDIS erupted into a resounding screech and jolted to the side, “What was that?”

“Another thing, we’re crashing.”

“Into what?”

“I don’t know!” He glanced to Clara who was keeping herself upright with the controls. He couldn’t understand _why_ that was the first thought that popped into both women’s minds. “Does it matter?”

“What are your coordinates?”

“Ahh… let’s see, coordinates…” He pulled the screen over and aimlessly pressed a few commands. Nothing happened. “Clara?” She shook her head at his questioning gaze. He pulled the end of the phone back to his mouth. “I don’t know.”

“Ask the TARDIS.”

“How?”

River sighed. “Do you remember anything useful?”

“I remember my wonderful wife is exquisite at piloting my time machine.” He grinned hopefully, completely forgetting she couldn’t see him. River scoffed. The Doctor knew she was rolling her eyes.

“First, activate emergency protocol 14. It should calm her down for a minute and make it easier.”

“Oh yes! Brilliant. That, I think I can do.”

“I certainly hope so,” she grumbled, muttering to herself about how all that was needed was to literally speak the words ‘activate emergency protocol 14’. The Doctor didn’t catch her muttering as he was already making his commands. The sudden jolting movements that had been overwhelming the TARDIS were replaced by a small persistent shudder. He brought the phone back to his head, a self-satisfied grin on his features.

“Done. Now, coordinates?”

“Follow my instructions,” River ordered, talking him through the steps to make the monitor display the current space and time coordinates of the TARDIS. Much to her pleasant surprise, he didn’t grouse once. “What does it say, sweetie?”

He read the numbers and letters displayed on the screen into the phone receiver.

“Okay, got it. I’ll be there soon.” She was disconnected with a click followed by repetitive beeps.

“You rerouted the phone?” Clara asked, bemused, as the Doctor returned the object to its holder.

“Yes.”

“When did you find time for that?”

“Before I regenerated.” He shrugged as though it were perfectly reasonable, before adding, “Well, while I was regenerating.”

Clara shook her head in disbelief, when she looked up again she saw that their rescue party had arrived. “Um, Doctor.”

“What?”

She subtly indicated behind him with a tilt of her head. He spun around to find River staring at him, arms crossed over her chest and smirking.

“Hello sweetie.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, frowning at her lack of movement or intention to fix their dilemma.

“Savouring the moment,” she responded smugly, soaking in the blissful sight of absolute chaos sparked by the Doctor’s inability to pilot his own TARDIS. When she was finished relishing in his misfortunes she proceeded to pour salt in his wounds by laughing mercilessly as she strode to the controls. Surrounded by an aura of determination and taunting mirth she dexterously set about taking charge of their unstable flight.

“You never have flown her properly,” River gibed, throwing a quick wink to her husband before motioning Clara over to the controls. “This is karma for not listening to her instructions. Clara hold this down and keep the purple lever steady. Doctor—”

“Yes,” he said eagerly, popping up beside her, “what do you want me to do?”

She eyed him carefully before glancing to the chair behind him. “Take a seat.”

His expression morphed into one of absolute insult. River nodded fondly, her eyes inspecting his features with admiration.  

“This face is rather expressive. And I thought your last one could pull some elaborate sulky looks,” she turned away from him as he gasped, returning to piloting the TARDIS. In a matter of seconds and many nimble adjustments of the controls, the TARDIS settled, encompassing them all in a contented silence.

River retracted her hands from the control panel, smiling triumphantly, and gave the time rotor a tender pat. “There, all is good, now she just needs some time to recover.” She turned to the Doctor, a teasing smile covering her face. “Allow her that would you?”

“So where are you?” the Doctor asked, coming to stand a foot in front of her.

“Just been pardoned, I’m going back to university soon. Time to impart my wisdom onto the young and ignorant.”

“Professor,” he smiled, eyes glistening.

“Not quite, but nearly.” River carefully regarded him from head to toe, noting his older appearance and more prominent eyebrows, her eyes locked on his collar. “You ditched the bowtie?” She looked up in time to catch him hastily glancing sideways, following his gaze she discovered a thin, long length of fabric laying abandoned on the concrete and gasped.

“On the floor!” She snatched it up and started dusting it off. “I can’t believe you did that,” she scolded, watching as he wordlessly gave himself a once over. “Yes you are right, it wouldn’t really suit. But still, that doesn’t mean you have to leave it to collect dirt. I’ll keep it, you clearly don’t care for it anymore.”

The Doctor nodded, a tiny movement of his head, silently considering her. It was as he’d always thought – she was more attached to his bowties than she had ever let on. He didn’t complain when she stuffed the bowtie into her pocket, too lost in his thoughts to care.

It had been far too long since he’d last seen her. It wasn’t when he said his goodbyes to her data ghost on Trenzalore, no, the last River he’d seen had been very much alive, but that was before he’d made his residence in Christmas so many centuries ago. It felt strange seeing her in the flesh when for so many years she had only been real in his memories and imagination and the stories he told the children.

When he resigned himself to being on Trenzalore until the day he died he knew there were so many people he would never get the chance to see again, no goodbye tour that time round. The thought of not seeing some people hurt more than others, and River Song, along with his other closest friends and family, was one of the hardest to bear. And there she was, the most maddening woman he’d ever known standing before him, her very presence stirring up his impulsive banter. Flirting with and even occasionally kissing Tasha Lem was fun, but it could never match up to how ridiculously easy River could give him an arrhythmia with a mere dallying smile or flutter of the eyes. He was going to have to tell her how rude she was to still be able to get him in a tizzy.

Though, that could wait a little while.

Stretching both arms before him he gripped her waist, pulling her nearer before lifting one hand to play with her hair. The way River was cautiously watching his every action, uncertain how she should react to the new version of her husband tugged at his hearts. There was nothing he hated more than seeing her so hesitant and wary, so _un_ River-like. It grieved him the way she was waiting for him to make the first moves.

Unable to bear the sight of diffidence in her eyes he inclined himself towards her, cheek lightly pressed against hers, his nose settling in her hair as he breathed in her long forgotten scent.

From the other side of the controls Clara averted her gaze uncomfortably, trying to ignore the horribly heavy feeling that settled in her gut. She refused to believe it was anything near jealousy, just disgust at seeing the Doctor appearing so romantically involved with someone.

“You know dear,” the Doctor murmured, lips brushing against River’s cheek, “I just regenerated.”

River hummed into his neck, smiling. Her breath tingled against his skin reminding him that she was so very _real_. “Yes, I do recall you said that.”

“Thing is,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to catch her gaze and smiling down at her with all the latent affection that had been festering during the centuries he spent at Christmas, “new body, new face. I don’t know if I’m any good anymore.”

“Oh? At what?” She smirked, the appearance of playful indecency dancing in her eyes left him inwardly ecstatic.

“You may need to teach me,” he whispered, his entire face scintillating with tender amusement. In the off chance that she hadn’t caught on he accentuated his point by briefly brushing his lips over hers, leaving River’s crooked smile to grow into a grin.

“I think you’ll be just fine.”

He closed the distance between them, kissing her with all the sentiments he had been trying to repress and forget for so long, since taking her to Darillium, since saying goodbye to her ghost, since realising he wouldn’t see her again. He felt River smile against his lips before she slid her hands around his back, fully intent on acquainting herself with his new face.

Clara, despite her worst efforts to not openly ogle the kissing duo, kept sneaking furtive glances in their direction, each time noticing advances in their embrace. First it was the Doctor pulling her closer, then it was River toying with his hair, followed by his hands creeping down her back. Directly after that it turned ugly. Clara’s last glance turned into a wide-eyed stare when she noticed the Doctor’s hands had started _wandering._ That was certainly new.

Equally as shocked as Clara, River pushed him away from her, frowning.

“Really? When there’s _company_?”

“Oh my stars,” Clara moaned, hands on hips, and trying to pretend she didn’t feel quite so glad they had finished. “Please don’t tell me he’s become an inappropriate old man.”

“The after effects of regeneration,” River explained, watching him with bemusement as he licked his lips, his attention having travelled away from her and Clara completely. “His hormones are still fluctuating.”

“I’m hungry.” The announcement came with a quick nod, an act of the Doctor signalling to himself that his time in deep thought had led to the right conclusion.

“Oh no, I’m not sticking around for one of these.” River vigorously shook her head, causing her mass of curls to bounce wildly, “I don’t even want to know what food it’s going to be this time. Clara, he’s all yours.” She turned to the Doctor, blowing him a kiss. “Bye sweetie.”

“No, you can’t _leave_.” The Doctor approached her hastily, wary eyes darting to the console as his voice dropped to a low whisper. “I still don’t know how to fly her.”

“Oh? What would you like me to do about that?” River asked coyly, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Do I have to say it?”

“Hmm,” she deliberated with put on exaggeration, “yes.”

“Teach me,” he mumbled, nearly incoherently.

“Teach you what sweetie?”

He hung his head, sighing dejectedly.

“On your knees,” River commanded.

“What?” His eyes snapped up to meet her inscrutable gaze.

“Beg.” She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting. The Doctor groaned, throwing his head back, before dropping to his knees on the floor, his shoulders slumped.

“River,” he muttered, peering up at her.

“Speak up.”

“ _Dear_ ,” he said loud and clear, shooting her an annoyed stare, “would you _please_ teach me how to fly my TARDIS?”

“I’ve waited my entire marriage to hear you say that.” She hummed, tapping her finger against her chin, appearing to consider his request with contrived sincerity. “I shall agree to it, so long as you promise not to _criticise_ the way I fly her.”

“Unfortunately I am desperate so I fear I must agree to your terms,” he quipped with an eerily sweet smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it and if you didn’t, sorry for wasting your time. Now excuse me while I go and pretend Eleven isn’t gone.


End file.
